


if broken hearts were whole (and cowards heros).

by flustraaa



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (literally the love simon au no one asked for), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Big Brother Sokka (Avatar), Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Bisexual Zuko (Avatar), Closeted Character, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Gen, Hurt Sokka (Avatar), Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Inspired by Love Simon, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Zuko (Avatar), Past Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Sharing a Bed, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Underage Drinking, Zuko (Avatar) Angst, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's Scar (Avatar), i don’t know how to tag pls help, ill add tags as we go, no beta we die like men, uhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flustraaa/pseuds/flustraaa
Summary: “i love you,” sokka states, and there’s something about the bluntness that shakes zuko to his very core, “you know that right?”his best friend is silent, lashes fluttering back upon his golden cheeks as he inhales deeply. sokka’s toes and fingers, alike, curl into the sand— his pinky finger overlapping zuko’s between the two of them.zuko’s thinking again— he always seems to be lost in his head when it comes to situations like these.“amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus,” he coos on an exhale, pushing the hair from his scar with a marginally shaking hand as a glance is sent in sokka’s direction.love is rich, both with honey and venom, his brain slowly pieces the phrase together in the silence that seems to span for an endless infinity between them.(orthe love simon au no one asked me for)
Relationships: (eventually), Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Mai & Zuko (Avatar), Ozai & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Suki (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Suki & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	1. introduction

**Author's Note:**

> hello! hi! what’s happening? so! i am a classical literature stan and i’ve been trying to figure out how to incorporate that content into atla fic and ofc i eventually was like oh my god love simon au so here we are.

Zuko’s life is completely normal— okay, yeah that’s overselling it and he knows it.

If Zuko is being completely honest... he’s a little fucked up— though he’d never admit it to a single soul.

It’s okay though, because if anything, it gives him ten times more funny juice. That being said, ten times zero is still zero.

Zuko’s life is totally normal— though, truly.

He goes to a normal school, with normal kids, and lives in a rad house with his uncle. He drinks stupid sweet iced coffees with his friend group that is so large that when he was picking out a car with a bit of the savings he’s received from the trial— he couldn’t help but gravitate towards the used seven seater mini-van before the jeep up front.

Uncle had smiled from ear to ear, and while Zuko contributed it to the price and Zuko’s exceeding fickle spending habits— sometimes he wonders if it was because Zuko finally allowed people to care about him despite it all.

So yeah, Zuko is normal and totally vibing.

Except for two little... tiny, teensy, tiny details. 

The first is that he he is not remotely straight, and the second is that he is so irrevocably in love with his best friend (and neighbour of four years) and refuses to admit it to himself.

And yeah— maybe those aren’t the _most_ exciting secrets in the world, but it’s hard for to pretend to be the emotionally removed, edge lord, rock loving friend when he’s admittedly wrapped around the finger of a boy who unironically... well, does everything that should be done strictly ironically.

(Like invite Zuko to movie night when not even he realises he’s slipping).

But that’s not really where this story even starts— no, this story starts on a stupid social media app that should’ve told him the moral of the story before he even made his username and password.

It all starts with a note. An incredibly and painfully relatable confession that has Zuko’s fingers dotting along his keyboard, long before he can consider what he’s done.

It starts with a post, from a user he doesn’t recognise:

* * *

@wangsapphire25567: i’m not a poetic guy, but sometimes i remember this time i was in a car with a beautiful boy and i wanted to tell him i loved him— but he wouldn’t love me the same. the feeling never went away, and i need to tell someone that i’m bisexual— i’ve never told anyone. not even my best friend. he has no clue— and part of me hopes he never finds out.

* * *

His fingers shake a bit— not that he even really notices as he types the letters of his new email into the search bar, gnawing on his bottom lip as he debates his name. 

* * *

to: wangsapphire25567@gmail.com

from: thebluespirit@gmail.com

subject: hey

* * *

Dear Wang, 

I’m just like you. For the most part my life is normal... but I have one massive fucking secret. I haven’t told anyone that I know what it’s like to sit in a car with a beautiful boy, and to want him to tell you he loves you— to feel like wanting to be loved is dangerous and something you don’t deserve. I haven’t told anyone that I’m bisexual.

Blue. 

* * *

He slams the laptop shut, resting his head in his hands before spilling back onto his bed— carefully throwing an arm around his dog, Druk.

He’s just drifting in and out of being awake and asleep when his windows open and his best friend sprawls out on his bed in a mess of limbs.

“What’s popping, Zuzu?” He beams at the heatless glare he receives, hands already smoothing over Druk’s fur as he kicks his vans off and onto the floor.

“I’ll end you.” 

He won’t, and Sokka knows it. 

“No you won’t.”   


After a moment, Zuko lets out a sigh, moving a bit to let Sokka find a more comfortable position beside him, but not before pressing a kiss onto his traitor of a dog’s head.

“Not much,” a quiet yawn passing through his lips, but he speaks around it as he tugs his phone our, “why?”

“Toph wants to have a movie night— ‘Tara and everyone is headed over now, but I figured I’d just come and pick you up. I had hockey and didn’t really want to drown everyone in my B.O,” he looks up from the small creature, cerulean eyes soft and a gentle smile on his lips.

“Do you just want to save gas?” Zuko’s eyes narrow teasingly, and Sokka sends him a soft grin in response, “I should’ve known.”

“I’ll get you a coffee on the way,” he concedes, pushing himself up as he takes his shoes into his left hand, and holds his right out to Zuko, “c’mon, they’re watching _Die Hard_ and I will cry if we’re late. Hurry up.”

They both know Aang wouldn’t let anyone startthe movie until everyone was there anyway, but Zuko takes Sokka’s hand anyway— desperately trying to ignore the sparks that crawl up his palms and into his forearms.

“Alright,” he mumbles, lacing up his own shoes, “fine, but you’re driving too.”

Sokka snatches Zuko’s keys from the table, waving a quick, “Hi Iroh, bye Iroh!”

Before hauling Zuko’s sleepy ass out of the house, and into the ugly red soccer-mom van parked in the driveway.

And as he sips his coffee, Zuko almost forgets about his email.

_Almost_. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hands cut smoothly through the water beneath his hands, the pool illuminated only by the shitty yellow bars of light above their heads. 

His biggest fear is drowning, and there’s something about knowing that he’s completely in charge of whether he lives or dies that’s always given Zuko the power to keep moving. 

He’d learned to swim in Caldera, Texas, along with Azula and a few other members of the friend group his father decided was (just barely) adequate. 

It was the only thing that wasn’t tainted by his fathers intents— after all, Zuko seemed to get too much joy out of swimming— out of finally being better than Azula at something. 

Now, at Creekwood, a public school in the heart of Omashu, New York— he’d found that people were far more willing to let you things that you excelled at— his uncle was far more inclined to see him smile. 

So yeah, maybe the team might’ve met him as the kid with the scars in places that scars should never be, but in the years since he’d joined their team he’d become their captain, their leader— but not someone to fear. 

And that in itself, was important to Zuko. 

“Zuko,” he moves the towel away from his eyes just in time to see the apple hurling at his face— narrowly catching it in his hands before throwing a heatless glare at Theo. “You could say thanks, instead of glaring, you know.” 

“You tried to blind me,” Zuko responds dryly, taking a bite as he tugs a pair of khakis on over his boxers, “and it’s a Granny-Smith. Those are literally the worst type of apples.” 

Theo only snorts one response, the corners of his lips quirking even more when Zuko rolls his eyes, “you’re welcome.” 

The scarred boy huffs in response, tugging a white crew neck over his shoulders, and lacing up his shoes before yelling a goodbye, remaining everyone of practice before heading out the doors of the locker room. 

“Zuko!” Coach Piandao calls, waving him over with a sigh, “you were slacking on your brokens, and you missed a send off in the preset, what was that?” 

“Oh,” the sudden urge to look away from prying eyes swells in his chest— it always feels like Piandao is trying to read into his soul, “uh— just tired I guess. I stayed up studying, sorry. It won’t happen again.

“Good to hear. I’ll see you at evening practice,” Zuko’s shoulders drop fractionally in relief, jaw unsetting. “Get some sleep tonight.” 

Zuko allows a half hearted chuckle to pass through his lips, nodding in agreement as he grips at his back pack strap with one hand, pushing the fringe out of his eyes with the other. Turning on his heels, he heads towards the quad— catching sight of his friends chatting as they head towards the mathematics wing of the building. 

Zuko clasps his hands around Sokka’s shoulders from behind, and Sokka lets out a startled yelp before clearing his throat coolly.

“Shit! I mean— what’s up dude?” Aang snorts, which earns him a hard elbow in the side from the subject of his mocking. “And to think I picked you up a coffee.” 

“You got me a coffee?” Something inside Sokka melts at the gentle warmth in Zuko’s voice; suddenly, the edges of embarrassment smooth into something much softer. “Thank you.” 

“It was nothing.” The brush off is anything but calm, but if anyone— namely, Katara, notices, they don’t say anything about it.

Aang pushes a hand through his recently grown out hair, untied shoe laces clattering against the concrete as he lets out a yawn, “how was practice, by the way?” 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Zuko replies— which, is pretty much his answer every time someone asks him how practice was. “Pretty chill warm up, preset, and cool down. We did broken twos for the main set which— honestly, I wasn’t doing that great. But I just need to work harder.”

Zuko hates it when Katara and Sokka look at him like that— as if they believe that he doesn’t need to be better than he is all the time. They don’t say anything more about it, though, which he appreciates. 

They split way for their respective first periods, Zuko and Sokka heading for Calc BC while Katara heads for Trig with Aang— Suki drops off for AP Environmental Science, with Toph tagging along for her chemistry class— mandatory service dog trailing along at her side. 

Zuko tosses his coffee cup in the recycling can at the door, as Sokka waves a hello to Doctor Akpik. 

“Hey Bato!” He beams charmingly, to which the teacher sends him a half-hearted glare. 

“Sokka,” he greets, the corner of his lips tilting up despite his best attempts to hide his amused grin, “We’re in class.” 

“Technically were in before class,” he says coolly, grinning mischievously, “and also it’s just me and Zuko.” 

“Morning, Doctor Akpik,” Zuko scratches the back of his neck, the tips of his ears flaring with heat at his best friends ministrations. 

“Good morning, my favourite student.” 

“Hey! I’m your favourite student!” Sokka’s voice comes out in an indignant squawk, blue eyes wide and offended. 

“My favourite student doesn’t call me by first name,” Bato teases, rolling his eyes as he finally looks up from the book on his table. “Go sit down.” 

Sokka grumbles all the way to his seat, taking the piece of cinnamon gum that Zuko offers him without hesitation. 

“You are his favourite student, you know,” Zuko whispers as the others begin to trickle in. “He’s just getting a rise out of you so he can tell your father about it later. Maybe, he’ll even make it an inside joke.” 

“I don’t know,” Sokka says casually, wooden pencil halting as he glances up from the homework he should’ve done last night. “You’re definitely an easy person to love.” 

He doesn’t say anything else— he doesn’t even seem to realise the way the comment has effected Zuko. Needless to say, Zuko can’t really focus on the rest of the lecture— and Sokka has to explain the intro to improper integrals to him during their free period.

* * *

The thing about being best friends with last names that land close to one another in the alphabet, is that, with enough strategic planning— they usually have classes together. 

Senior year is really not that different— only, Sokka has an AP computer science class where Zuko has a symphony orchestra class slotted into his schedule.

They always meet up in the three thousand hallway, along with Suki and Yue where the group of four calmly stroll into the lunch room. 

Now, this is the part where Sokka says something stupid about a spam email he got while taking a programming test— one that nearly cost him his grade because the teacher, quote, “ _has got to be a scarecrow. I’m telling you, there’s a stick so far up his ass his feet don’t touch the ground_.”

It draws a chuckle out of Zuko, before he realises that he never checked to see if Wang had responded the night before— and promptly chokes on the water from his water bottle.

Katara shoots him a concerned look, and Sokka looks at Katara dryly, “did you just choke Zuko with your water voodoo?” 

She looks affronted, “absolutely not!” 

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” Zuko mutters, and that catches more concerned looks from the table. He tacks on a quick, “I’m fine. I think my nose is going to start bleeding.” 

“From the... water?” Yue asks, just as Sokka inquires, “I thought you got it cauterised this summer?” 

“Uh, fire and I don’t mix too well,” he brings his napkin up to his nose for further explanation, and his friends nod letting him go. 

He turns before he can see the concernedlooks his friends send in his direction— nor does he catch the specific look from the human lie detector at the end of the table. 

“Text me if you need anything,” Sokka calls quietly, and Zuko feels his eyes following him as he jogs towards the bathroom. 

Locking himself in a stall, he fumbles with his phone until blight light drown his face and he’s opening Gmail to find the notification that he did, in fact, get a response. 

* * *

to: thebluespirit@gmail.com

from: wangsapphire25567@gmail.com

subject: re: hey

* * *

Dear Blue, 

It’s nice to know that I’m not as alone as I thought— I hope the relief feels as good to you as it does to me. I guess this is the part where we make a blood pact— or don’t? Instructions unclear— I’ve built a rocket ship instead.

Have you told anyone yet? I haven’t— but I’m pretty sure my sister saw me staring at my best friends ass while he was bending over to grab a pencil a few days ago— and I’m pretty sure she’s connected the dots. Not all of them. But enough that it’s not the incredible Ryan Bergara (“you didn’t connect shit”) quote. Anyways, I’m not really sure where I’m going with this— which is weird for me. 

It’s really nice to meet (or not meet) you, Blue. 

Wang. 

* * *

Zuko pulls a hand away from his nose, checking the watch around his wrist only to find that there’s nowhere near enough time to process that email— let alone respond to it. 

He does, unfortunately, find that karma got its kiss for him. Sticky crimson wraps around the napkin in his fingers, and he huffs out a sigh. 

He opens the door to the stall, just as Sokka’s head pokes around the corner, “hey— I um— realised I never took the tissues out of my bag.” 

“You carry tissues in your bag?” Zuko queries, words muffled by the fabric against his nose.

“Yeah— when your nose bleeds got really bad last winter I figured that we’re around each other enough that it’d probably be good for me to have some. I thought about taking them out but...” his words die off as he fiddles with the package in his grasp. Everything about this moment screams Sokka, but there’s something so uncharacteristic of his actions. 

He’s acting like Zuko— unsure of himself and a bit timid. Suddenly, the emotions that overwhelm him are feeling too big and too warm for his body. 

“Thank you.” Sokka sends him a half smile, waving him off with a free hand when Zuko tosses the napkin towards the bin. 

“Yeah, no problem— but we should probably go get your bag. I can drop you off at the nurses and tell Mr. Yukimura that your nose is bleeding—“ Sokka stops dead, voice dying in his throat when he catches whatever expression was written on Zuko’s face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Zuko settles on, sending Sokka the best smile he can muster behind the tissue, “I’m just trying to figure out if my grade will survive ditching AP Bio.” 

Sokka snorts, “that’s why I’m here. All the brains and beauty.” 

Zuko knows he’s right. 

“I hate you,” Zuko rolls his eyes, grasping the tissues. “Let’s go. I don’t want to watch Aang try to pick up our bags. He’ll break in half.” 

* * *

It takes Sokka several moments to process the incessant buzzing of his phone, and when he does he’s more focused on the sleepy breaths that accompany them.

He first sees Zuko, sound asleep beside him— hair still damp from practice and dark lashes falling over ivory and crimson. Sokka watches him for a moment, as he regains his bearings from his nap of ethereal proportions.

Lifting his head from the pillow, he reaches out to lift his phone up. When he sees a casual _**Katara (47)**_ he sits up, running a hand over his eyes before pushing the fallen hair from his ponytail back. 

The tests range from a cool, _hey! i’m done with practice. i’m gonna go change and dry my skates and then i’ll be out_. to _sokka? where are you?_ to _i will fucking freeze every meal you make for the next month_ finally, to _are you okay? can you just text me back?_

Ah yes, the four stages of grief. 

Katara picks up on the first ring, “what happened?” 

“Dude, I’m so sorry. Do you—“ 

“No. Suki texted me and said she was near the ice rink. I’m in her car right now. Are you okay?” Her voice is a little wobbly, and Sokka is ninety percent sure she’s about to cry and nothing about that sits right in Sokka’s chest. 

“I’m sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep,” he mumbles, wiping at his eyes as he tries to get rid of the crusty feeling from his contacts. “Are you okay? I’m really sorry.” 

She pauses, “it’s okay. I’m mad at you for scaring me, but it’s fine.” 

“When you get home, I’ll make you some hot chocolate? And do the dishes for you after dinner?” He hears his sister huff out a laugh, and suddenly, not everything seems so bad. 

“Deal,” she agrees quietly. “Is Zuko coming over for dinner still? And then Toph’s after?”

“Yeah he’s actually— hey, wake up,” Sokka reaches over to shake his shoulder again, and he’s met with a grumpy, but incredibly sleepy, glower and scowl. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Are you still having dinner with us?” 

Zuko mumbles an affirmative response, and pulls a pillow over his head. 

“So you were sleeping with Zuko?” Katara asks, voice lowered significantly. “Huh. Interesting.” 

Sokka doesn’t like that tone, “shut up. Is Suki listening?”

“No. But were you guys at least five feet apart?” Her voice is smug and Sokka is about to revoke the dishes-after-dinner-deal. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he does spare a glance to the side, despite knowing full and well that he sleeps on a double bed not even five feet wide. “And of course. We’re not gay.” 

“Sounds homophobic.” And then she’s gone, and Sokka’s left staring blankly at his home screen while Zuko naps beside him. 

“Alright, time to wake up, bud.” Zuko jolts when Sokka pats his knee, looking at him with eyes that are equally blurry. Golden eyes sleepily survey his surroundings— taking a moment realise he’d fallen asleep in Sokka’s room 

“Shit, did I fall—“ his voice is low, catching on the consonants from disuse. “Sorry. Was I bothering you?” 

“No, but we slept through when I was supposed to pick Katara up and she’s going to beat my ass,” Sokka grumbles, watching as Zuko stares at the ceiling. “Are you good, bro?” 

Zuko nods, running a hand over his face before he props himself up on his palms. Sokka’s eyebrows furrow, and he raises himself to sit, “did you have a nightmare?” 

“No. I’m fine.” 

It’s a lie if Sokka’s ever heard one, but he doesn’t push his best friend any further. It’s been four years since Zuko moved in next door, and while he’s the easiest book Sokka’s ever read; it’s like their are pages obscured from view. Waiting to be cut apart, and analysed.

* * *

“You know,” Suki murmurs as she applies a streak of black nail polish onto Zuko’s thumb nail, “for someone who swims as much as you do, your cuticles and skin are kind of nice as hell.”

“Thanks, I think,” Zuko mumbles, tearing his eyes away from whatever shitty movie plays in the background to look at Suki. She beams at him from behind her face mask. “If it’s any consolation, I kind of have to take care of my skin.”

The implication doesn’t go unnoticed, but that’s part of the reason Zuko has grown to love his friends— they don’t pity him for the very mark that reminds him of his pitfalls.

“At least you can swim without them thinking you’re cheating because you can bend water,” Katara grumbles, “now I have to figure skate.” 

“And what’s so bad about skating?” Sokka pipes up from where he’s sprawled out over one of Toph’s couches, “I think it’s cool.”

“Yeah, because you get to check people when they say degrading shit. I just have to listen to it,” she huffs, sinking against the couch with a sigh.

Zuko bites his bottom lip as Sokka chucks a squishy baseball pillow at Katara, which Aang redirects without glancing up from his phone.

“Stupid fucking air benders,” Sokka growls, wrapping his arms around the pillow before sliding off the couch and onto the floor beside Zuko, “redirecting my pillow attacks from my stupid water bending sister.”

“Hey, at least they’re not fire benders, right?” If anyone notices the way Zuko stiffens, they don’t say a word about it. 

“I guess,” Sokka sits, resting his head in Zuko’s lap— he doesn’t notice the way Zuko’s breaths stutter— prior to making grabby hands for his friend’s free hand. “No offence, my dearest, best friend Zuko, who is also the nephew of a fire bender.”

The presumably offended party doesn’t say a word, instead waiting for Sokka to finish tugging out his wolf-tail so he can start to card his hand through silky chestnut locks.

“Don’t shit on Iroh,” Toph growls, but it lacks any real heat. “That man deserves the world.” 

He lets out a quiet sigh of content (after pushing down the fear of Toph’s threatening voice), and Zuko lets out a quiet snort before admiring his nails in the light, “I didn’t put a top coat on because it’ll come of after one practice anyways, is that okay?”

Zuko chuckles, nodding as he relaxes with his back against the couch, “it’s all good, Suki.”

She beams at him, and he allows his eyes to focus back on the movie— fingers still pulling at the loosened strands of Sokka’s hair absently.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Zuko murmurs, flicking Sokka’s temple when his breaths start to grow slow and even, “I’ll leave you on the floor.”

“I’m wide awake,” Sokka mumbles back, batting at the fingers that continue to inflict him with incessant poking. “Stop doing that— and you couldn’t leave me on the floor if you wanted to. You love me too much, and we have class tomorrow anyways so you’re stuck with me.”

The room falls silent once more, and just as Zuko’s sure his idiot— of a best best friend— has fallen asleep, he jolts suddenly.

“Guys,” he blurts suddenly, “if a pregnant woman goes swimming, is she a human submarine?”

Zuko’s blinks, glancing down at Sokka in bewilderment— hand coming to a halt as he stares at him.

“I hate you so much,” Katara declares after a moment has passed, still looking at him like he’s grown a third arm.

“No _wait_ —“ Aang sits up, pressing his index fingers together in front of his mouth as he thinks, “Sokka’s got a point.”

And then, chaos ensues. 

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry i promise the chapters will get better.


End file.
